URSAN LONGSTRIDER, WOLVERINE OF CHAUNTEA
The wheel turns....And a life comes full-circle sometimes, placing you upon a path that you glimpsed before. Perhaps affording you a different perspective, or even allowing you to take a different turning.
I am no druid or scholar to know what is in the mind of my Goddess, but deep within I hold to the thought that I have been given a chance at redemption. The man born Ursan of Riatavin one starless night four decades ago is no more. In truth, I do not miss him. He was a wilful youth, full of anger and resentment. Quick to temper and arrogant in his dealings with others.
There are those who would say that there is little to choose between the man that was and the man that is now. Perhaps, aye perhaps. But the wheel turns still, and I have a need to put down upon paper an account of the paths I took those many years ago.
The tent was empty when I awoke, my father already up and about soon after the sun had risen. I was in no such hurry. My legs still ached from the ride out here and my mind was filled with thoughts of Ilyenna. Our last meeting had been oddly uncomfortable, almost as though there were something come between us. With an angry shrug I tried my best to put these worries from my mind and set about preparing our gear for the days hunt. Despite busying myself with the many small tasks at hand I could not cease from pondering.
The sound of a horse entering the clearing drew me from my thoughts. Strangely, my father did not dismount. Instead he walked the horse over to where my own mount was tied and began to unravel the reins.
"Come my son, ride with me"
"Where do we ride father?" I asked, looking up from the bow I was re-stringing "This is not fit for hunting with yet"
He shrugged slightly, his gaze not quite meeting mine, his eyes fixed on the tree line. "Time enough to hunt our meal later" He smiled faintly then, "Even your small skill with the bow should net us a black-cock or two for supper"
Sliding the stave into my bedroll I carefully re-wrapped the bowstring in it's oiled cloth and tucked it away in my belt-pouch. "If we do not hunt until later, why do we ride?"
His gaze dropped momentarily, finally meeting mine, and there was a sombre look upon his face. "We must talk, Ursan" He sighed "of your future"
I nodded slowly and began gathering up my sword and spear. It seemed some decision had been made, and perhaps not a happy one. My stomach lurched at that, Ilyenna............was it about her? I felt my cheeks flush with anger as I quashed the fear in my belly. She was mine, she had said so herself.
Taking hold of the roan mare my father was leading I climbed gingerly into the saddles. Muscles not yet recovered from yesterdays exertions protested at the renewed abuse. I winced slightly as the mare shifted and settled herself.
Chuckling now he said "It is a skill you should have mastered long ago my boy, but worry not - you will grow used to it in time" Then without further pause he tugged on the reins of his mount and moved towards the game trail that was the exit from the clearing.
We rode in near silence for almost a league before he motioned for me to ride up alongside him. "She can not be yours" His face remained passive as he made this awful declaration, but there was concern in his voice and his hands toyed nervously with his horse's mane. "They are a noble house and we are" a shrug "merely what we are". For all the sometimes blunt way of his human heritage my father tried to place a gentle inflection on these words.
Pulling hard on the reins I halted the mare's slow walk and slid from the saddle. I had expected a setback to my plans to marry Ilyenna, but this was far worse than I had imagined. The words struck me like a hammer blow, my insides burning with shock and hurt. Better he had spoken true, noble elven-kind they and I....... naught but the half-breed son of a human father. Falling to my knees I dug my fists into the damp black earth and gritted my teeth at the rage which threatened to overwhelm me at his announcement.
Ilyenna. My sweet Ilyenna. Ten years she has been my one true love. Always kind and patient, even when she might have cause to be angry with my wilful human half. Never disdainful of my low station for she had seen the simple truth of my love for her. She had not changed her mind, no - it had been changed for her. Lies and deceit had stolen her from me.
"I will go to them, demand to meet with her father. I can make them change their minds" Without thought I was on my feet once more, the cool hilt of the sword gripped in my fist. Before my father could even reach out a hand I was back in the saddle and tugging furiously at the bridle.
"Wait Ursan, the Gods' pity, wait" A moments pause to right myself in the saddle and I was gone, his words of warning blown away like mist before the sun.
I recall little of that nightmare ride through the forest. Every branch and root seemed against me, the usually placid mare stricken with fear by the mad pace. Each time I fell I dragged myself to my feet, bitter curses thrown from between clenched teeth. When the horse faltered I beat it with the flat of my blade. It was if somehow, could I but get there before the day was out, all would be as I had left it yesterday.
Dusk was falling as I rode up to the home of Ilyenna and her family. It was a simple wooden construct, but unlike the other homes in the village it was of two storeys. The ground floor nestled within a well-kept garden, the first floor rising between the trees which formed it's walls and corner-posts.
Mud and dirt clung to my once-fine clothes, scratches marred my face and all that remained of my gear was the battered old training sword in it's aged sheath. Everything else had fallen by the wayside in my frantic dash to return here.
No wonder then that I got only as far as the entrance hall before I was halted by her brother. Whether it was my appearance, or just the long standing dislike that lay between us, he wasted little time in blocking my path to the stairs.
"Leave now and we will say no more of this intrusion" His melodic elven voice was infuriatingly calm, a frowning sneer of contempt upon his face as he looked me up and down.
A sound from the hallway above drew my attention away from him...... Ilyenna. Hardly had my foot touched the stairs when I felt his hand upon my sleeve. "You dare?"
"Ursan?" Light from her room bathed the upper balcony, and then she was there, looking down upon me. Strawberry-blonde hair hanging low to her waist, amber eyes reflecting the glow of the torchlight.
"Ilyenna!"
"Ursan, you must leave" Was there regret in her voice? I did not hear it I fear, blood pounding in my ears I made to climb to her. Make her come with me, make her mine.
The cut was not a deep one, barely a prick against my sleeve, but I acted without thought. The long sword leapt from its scabbard as I whirled to face her brother.
"Stand before me and die" In the moment that it took for him to register the shock of those venom filled words, I was already half-way up the stairs. Mounting them two at a time, I had just gained solid footing when I heard his blade sing behind me.
The fight was brief and ugly. Neither of us were swordsmen of particular skill, relying on natural ability and brute strength rather than talent. I pitied him then, almost putting up my sword, for I was a man lent strength by the rage I felt at losing Ilyenna. Stepping back a pace to give him a similar opportunity to withdraw I did not see the overhand blow until it was almost too late. Swaying to my left, I flung my blade up to meet his, feeling the skin sliced from my cheek even as I rolled my wrists and lunged for his throat....
.....only to watch in horror as the blade slid into Ilyenna's slender body as she sought to push her brother away.
Her blood still wet upon the sword I swung around and cleaved his head from his body with little more resistance than one would slice cheese, even as she toppled backwards......
My howl of near absolute despair was almost feral, time seeming to stand and hold that moment, as she looked up at me with shock-filled eyes before falling towards the stairs.
I could reach her, stop her falling, if only I moved quickly enough......
The Wheel turns, and I walk again a long forgotten road. Sights are sharper now, sounds heard more clearly. Some memories do not fade with time, they only become more deeply ingrained.
I shall not touch upon my flight from the lodges of my Mother’s people, nor the shame and hurt I brought upon her and my Father. That path is not one I wish to walk yet. Let me speak instead of another telling moment in the early years of my life.
‘Gather up your snares lad’ he chuckled warmly, ‘we’ve enough here to feed an army’
Gesturing to the half-dozen plump hares he grinned and said ‘I wonder if we could turn your snare loops into a weapon’
I sighed at that, the scabbard looped through my belt slapping uncomfortably against my legs as I stood. Another reminder of how unfamiliar it seemed to me.
‘I try to learn Grigarrin, really I do, its just.......’ my words trailed off into a muttered grumble.
‘Aye, I know’ he nodded ‘and skill will come with time. You’re strong and agile, the learning will come’
‘Besides, you ...... ‘ his head came up suddenly, dark eyes scanning the river-bank.
‘What is it?’
‘Whisht lad ‘ his hands reached for the great sword at his back, tugging it free of the sheath. ‘Someone on the trail’.
Holding the weapon loosely in one hand, as though it weighed next to nothing, he stood stock still a moment. Listening to the changed forest sounds, breathing in the scents on the wind, his face took on an angry scowl
The bony fingers of his free hand flickered then, the hand-sign rapid and decisive.
Motioning me to follow close behind he began to pick his way back towards the deer-path, turning briefly to murmur in a hushed tone ‘Malarite....’
Laying the heavy two-handed sword lengthways upon the mound, I paused to survey my handiwork. It was the best I could manage in my weakened state. Resting here beneath the boughs of a sturdy oak tree, Grigarrin would pass the long wait embraced in the earth of the forest he had so loved. Slowly rising to my feet I cast about for stones to cover the shallow grave.
The ground was frost-hardened and reluctant to release the stones to my care. Head still pounding from the blow I had received, I patiently tugged and scraped at the moss covered boulders strewn about the hill-side. Finally, exhausted by my exertions I slumped against the base of the oak tree and lapsed into a deep slumber.
Grigarrin sighed. ‘You couldn’t hit a barnhouse door from twenty paces lad’
‘Damn it all......the spear’s crooked’ I declared.
He laughed at that and fetched me a swipe across the ear. ‘It’s your aim thats crooked lad’
Pulling the spear from my hands, he hefted and raised it above his shoulder to make a cast. Barely had he drawn back his arm than the spear was flying through the air towards the target. It struck true, at the very middle of the tree bole we were using for practice
‘I dont think we’ll get far with the spear for you’ He looked me up and down like so much meat on a market stall and said ‘You’ve too much strength for it I’m thinking, them long arms of yours throw off your aim. Maybe we’ll go back to something youre familair with’
He smiled then ‘Go fetch me the long bow from my workshop’
I slept the better part of the afternoon before the chill of the oncoming night began to seep into my bones. Waking with a start, I took a moment to gather my thoughts before setting off back to the cabin. The air had a dry sharp smell to it, snow would be coming soon, and I needed to complete my tasks here as quickly as possible.
The simple cabin of logs lay some yards from the trees, in a small clearing near a tributary of the Starwater river. Outwardly there seemed little amiss, but as I stepped through the heavy oak door I could see the damage the brigands had caused. The main room had been ransacked, furniture was over-turned and smashed, clothing torn or taken. The weapons rack was empty of all but a plain longsword and the small strongbox gone from its place above the fire.
With a low growl of anger I stepped through into the workshop. The damage here hurt me more, for this was Grigarrin’s special place. The place where he crafted his weapons and gear. All about, tools were scattered and damaged, bows and staves broken in two, for no other reason than that they had no value. An inarticulate howl of rage filled my throat, and I cast it to the sky as I sat on the floor of the workshop.
Midsummer in Cormyr is a time of festivity and competition, with many a village fete taking place. The games in Waymoot were the highlight of the Summer, for here at least was a chance to show off my skills. Sun on my back, the warm winds whipping through my hair, I easily outdistanced the others in the foot-race that year.
A poor farmer at best, I often felt a burden to my father’s brother. He did not say such, but I think he regretted taking me in after the damage I had wrought in the South. Unreliable when compared to my cousin brother, and not wise in the way of livestock like his sister, I struggled with the everday monotony of rural life.
Not here though, here I was in my element. Alone and with no skill but that the Gods had given me I could compete and outdo my peers. Next to the mayhem of the wrestling tourneys this was my favourite event.
‘Runner are you?’
Bouncing slightly on my toes, warming down from the race, I looked across at the man who had spoken. Tall and stocky, with an unruly mop of thick black hair, he leaned against the porch rail of the inn and eyed me curiously.
‘I am’ I smiled warily ‘and a good one I think’
‘Aye, I seen that’ he nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his tanned and weather-beaten face. ‘That’d be why folks about have taken to callin’ you the Longstrider maybe’
A non-commital shrug, that was not the only reason they called me that...but I was not about to explain why I had been forced to leave the name Ursan behind me.
‘Can you fight?’
The abrupt change of tack threw me for a moment. He was no farmer to be asking me that. My Uncle disliked intensely my owning a sword or even practising with one. What little I had learned since fleeing Tethyr was hard-gained and kept secret from him.
‘A little’ Again he nodded, a slow smile beginning at the corners of his mouth
‘Have to speak with your Uncle I think. Maybe you need a change of scene’
Gathering up what little food remained unspoiled in the larder, I tidied the cabin as best I could. I would not be returning here any time soon. Carefully slipping the latch into place I walked out into the moonlight and stood staring into the gloom of the King’s Forest.
Somewhere out there was a camp-fire or a cave which hid my prey. Perhaps my weapon skill was lacking and my strength not that of a warrior , but I could track and I could hunt. The men at that campfire would answer for their attack.
Not because they had stolen from us. Not even, Gods forgive me, because they had killed a man whom I loved more dearly than my father. No, they would pay because they had left me alive, because they had deemed me not worthy of their sport.